


Baby Inevitably Gets Left Behind

by notthefuckingtitanic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-06
Updated: 2015-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-06 03:46:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14633421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notthefuckingtitanic/pseuds/notthefuckingtitanic
Summary: this is the one (1) and only spn fic ill ever write





	Baby Inevitably Gets Left Behind

And so she sits there. Her once shiny and well cared for paint will chip away and giving way to the now rusting metal underneath. The air in her tyres slowly deflating, joining the rest in the mournful sky. She becomes that old car that always just… been there. Local children will circle her curiously, running their fingers over the jagged sides, and wondering, "How did you get here?" They'll run back home filled with exhilaration at their ill advised adventures, already making up stories about how 'that car' came to rest in their sleepy town. Those same kids will listen to the older kids telling ghost stories created from the vague memories of when they were younger than those listening. Their parents will pass by tight-lipped, averting their gaze and their minds from a time less pleasant. Their grandparents will tell them of great adventures with a teary twinkle in their eye.

 

The adventures of two brothers, risking their lives to save the world, this sleepy town, but more importantly; each other. Soon, after generations and generations have passed, she'll become nothing more than another urban legend, mere rumors less tangible than the cracked mirrors and the long shattered windows. It'll be longer still before anyone begins to get suspicious of the angelic man in the immaculate suit and the tattered trenchcoat. Every now and again he'll be spotted, he'll suddenly just appear in front of her. He'll circle her, caressing the sides, smooth fingertips catching on the gnarled parts of the metal but somehow never leaving a drop of blood. He'll then sit atop the hood, curl his legs up and rest his chin on them, somehow managing to look so childlike and vulnerable, yet weary with more ages than have passed. He's never been seen anywhere else but with her, he's never even been seen walking towards her either. He's just… there. When he's decided he's done, he'll climb off her hood, walk around her once more and whisper a small prayer; thank you, for looking after them, after him. And then he'll be off, the locals always slow their walk minutely, staring intently out if the corners of their eyes, even stopping to tie their shoes to catch a glimpse like the busybodies the lot of them have been raised to be. But then something out of the corner of their other eye will catch their attention, or a passing car will obscure their vision and after just the distracted split second; he's gone. Some swear they heard a flap of wings before they realised he had already vanished, like a majestic bird taking flight towards the heavens.

 

There was a time, long, long ago, too far back for any of the proud citizens of this sleepy town to remember now. A time when two boys rode around in this car, windows rolled down and plaid sleeves rolled up. They would take such good care of her, washing her, shining her, repainting her, rebuilding her from the ground up, but most importantly, loving her. They rode into town one day, on the freeway that was the one way in and out of there. They would ride around this sleepy town belting lyrics to songs no one can remember even the tune of now. Memories of that time cling to the cracked leather upholstery, being blown away with every rusted paint chip that finds its way across town only to get stuck in a tree somewhere, baffling birds and squirrels. Those were memories of those two boys, brothers in blood and in arms. Boys who loved her. Boys who were the things monsters had nightmares about. Boys who managed to save the world a few times, against all odds and occasionally against each other. They were boys who were always so charming, yet so curious - so many questions. They were good boys who tried their hardest to do good. But of course, they were boys who died.


End file.
